Roses Have Thorns
by Clumsical
Summary: Devon Thorn, aka Black Rose the infamous con-artist, had a bit of a secret. Although she acted like a man she was actually a woman. But when she becomes indebted to Sherlock Holmes for breaking into his house they will both learn a bit about each other.
1. 1 Thorn

**Roses Have Thorns-Chapter 1-Meeting the Famous Detective**

_Sherlock Holmes. _

_His intellect and logic surely surpasses me by no doubt._

_That is why he has the title of the greatest detective of all of London. _

_Some say the world._

_But seeing that I have not traveled anywhere out of Europe I will leave that one open for farther debate. _

_You must be thinking that he is my idol. _

_Or enemy._

_I will gladly say that he is neither. Just an interesting person that intrigues me._

_Even now as I stand not but a few blocks outside of his apartment and I find myself thinking about him. _

_Just to know something about him would be astounding. _

_Then an interesting thought came to mind._

_Whats keeping me from investigating?_

The London street were crowded with many middle class men and women going to work or already working. I walked on the sidewalk, hands in my pockets, head down, but my eyes were up scouting out for any individuals who looked like they were worthwhile.

Out of one of the rather unlucky man's back pocket was a plump wallet. By his weight and the way he dressed I could tell he was a particularly wealthy man. I smoothly cut into the crowd which bumped and jostled beside me. It was an unpleasant experience with all the people crowded around me.

I inched closed the man letting my hand go towards his back pocket.

My fingers, quick and quiet, plucked the wallet and put it into my inside my own coat pocket.

Taking a quick pan across the people surrounding me none of them showed signs of seeing my pinch.

But I took into account that a man with that size of a wallet would notice fairly fast that it was missing.

I quickly turned down an alley that was intersecting the main street to the left.

_Chester Ave._

The passages in between the buildings twisted and turned. Many men wouldn't know where they were heading. So I guess it came as a good thing that I knew them like the back of my hand.

I stayed calm. It seemed like the first rule in being a con. Stay completely normal and don't show any signs of anxiety or nervousness. The ones who get caught are the ones who looked like they did something.

At an intersection I made a casual quick spin. Nobody suspicious. Then took a left.

_Belgrave Road_

Taking another left I pushed open the green back door of a familiar pawn shop. The shop owner greeted me and in return I tipped my hat. Exiting through the front door I took a right.

_Lupus Street_

After a few steps a left.

_St. George's Street_

It was the narrowest, and longest passage of all of London and it also lead to my secret spot.

The pathway began to open up into a fork and taking the left one the alley opened up to be much larger. I slowed and leaned against a wall. Taking a quick look to the left and right still making sure no one was there, I grabbed the wallet out of my coat.

It was made of an expensive imported leather from India.

Opening it revealed some business cards, a few keys, a picture, but mostly money.

I smiled and threw the wallet to the ground, keeping the money in my hand. I began to count it making sure that it was worth it.

It was.

"Excuse me."

I whipped around to the right and then to the left again.

No one was there. Only an empty path.

I pulled down my top hat and put up the collars of my coat then nonchalantly turned left and walked barely a step before noticing another man standing directly in the middle of the alleyway.

I stood frozen. Where did he come from? I personally had made sure no one had followed me.

He wore worn, gray pants, a long dark brown coat, and underneath a pinstripe vest covering a white collared shirt, and a small brown scarf tucked in his shirt.

The man was a bit of scruff with brown untidy hair. He wore a bowlers hat that looked like it was a bit too large for him. Fit for a different man. He had a rounded but square jaw and soft eyes.

"Excuse me. But I take it that, that isn't your money," he said while pointing towards my hand that held the money.

I tried to keep my head down afraid that he would see my face. Backing up into the shadows I assured that.

"I assume that you are the infamous Black Rose."

"I guess I'm a tad bit notorious for that," I said gruffly, to disguise my voice. "How did you know I was the Black Rose though?"

"Well the mud on your shoes tells me that you have been around this area quite a lot and this is of course where you are known to make your move. Then there is also how you choose the client which you were going to pickpocket. A novice would have chosen a much quieter person."

His detections were very accurate and precise.

"You're a detective," I absolutely hate these people, "Here take the money," I threw it towards his feet. If I hadn't I knew that they would follow me or something just waiting for an arrest.

"Well not to be picky, "he said while leaning over to pick up the money, "but I prefer to be called a consulting detective."

There was only one "consulting detective" of all of London.

"Sherlock Holmes," I said aloud.

He chuckled to himself then said, "I must be going now. Nice to meet you Black Rose."

And then he turned around, walked for about a minute and took a left down a path that lead directly to main street.

And that was the first time I met the famous consulting detective.

**Alrighty then. I hope you guys like this. The vocab I'm using is a bit different from my normal writing but I'll get used to it. **

**This is going to be a MULTIPLE POINT OF VIEW thing. But its simple. **

**This chapter: My character POV.**

**Next chapter: Sherlock POV**

**After That: My Character POV**

**After That: Sherlock POV**

**Pretty simple right? (ill also put it up in the chapter title thing so you don't get confused.) Thanks for reading. Please review.**

**Oh by the way. Does anyone know anything about the money system back then? I get confused with the pounds and shillings and things.**


	2. 2 Holmes

**Roses Have Thorns- Chapter 2-Cat after Mouse**

I threw the door to 221b open and laughed heartily.

I didn't expect to see Watson there though. He had been leaning against the windowsill looking out but when I burst in he turned to see me.

I abruptly stopped laughing.

"Wh-What are you doing Holmes?"

"Well the question is what are you doing here? This is _**my **_apartment after all."

"Stop trying to be wise," He said while giving me one of his famous stares, "I came by to check on you and see if you were doing that case."

While he said this I had moved over toward the fireplace and picked up my pipe. Lighting it I took a drag then turned back towards Watson, breaking the smoke out.

"Solved."

"The Culprit?"

"Found."

Watson paused as if for me to fill in the blank. "...And...?"

"You know Watson, why do you ask me all these questions? It is _**my **_business since you left."

"Yes but as a friend I want to make sure your not going off on some tangent that involves my dog or -"

"Our," I corrected him.

"My. Dog. I'm taking it with me"

I coughed on the smoke. This was expected but I didn't think he was going to take it so early on. "But what will I do for experiments?"

"Uh. Get a rat or something?"

"But a rat just isn't substantial enough. You should know Watson. You are a doctor."

"Stop trying to get me off subject. What happened to the culprit?"

Watson's eyes followed me as I walked across the room and leaned on the windowsill with him.

"I felt generous."

He gave an exaggerated sigh and put his hand up to his face. "Why? Why do you do these things? Did he at least pay you? I mean there was probably no point in even accepting the case if you were letting him get away."

Down the street many people passed by. All were heading somewhere and for most of them I could tell where. But there was one thing on my mind. The Black Rose.

"Are you even listening?"

"Huh?" I was listening, but bothering Watson was just too much fun. "Yeah. Yeah."

He got up and walked across the room. "You need to shape up. Money doesn't grow on trees -" His voice mumbled off as he walked into my room.

"Gugh! HOLMES!"

I barely heard him as I leaned in more closely to the window. A man stood right below on the street. His head was down but I recognized him all the more.

Black Rose.

Just standing there. Top hat turned down so I couldn't see his face from this view.

Same clothes and everything else.

Why is he standing there? What does he get out of it? Some sick pleasure torturing me?

He moved a hand and grabbed his hat then made a swift movement along the rim of the hat to the side like he was going to take it off.

I leaned in closer, intently watching.

He quickly moved his hand back to the front rim and gave it a tip then began walking to the left.

A firm hand landed on my shoulder.

"Your room is in utter discord. If I didn't know better I-"

I had to get him.

Frantically I pushed Watson aside and gunned it for the door. My colleague's yelling could be heard behind me but it slowly died out as I ran down the stairs and out the door almost knocking over Mrs. Hudson as I did so.

The tray that held a few cups of tea, probably for us, was knocked out of her hand and smashed on the floor but she was able to retain stability.

The street was a little less crowded than it was before but I could still see the top hat of the person who had been standing across the street moments earlier.

He walked slowly and wobbly and along with the crowd.

My heart sank. It wasn't him.

The appearance was correct with the same figure and outfit but the height was only slightly off by a few inches.

There was no point in losing him though. Maybe he knew the person.

By now I had caught up to the impersonator.

I tapped the man on the shoulder then quickly took off his hat.

It was a young kid, maybe 14 at the least. But he was tall and lanky just like Black Rose. A look of nervousness and fear shadowed his face.

"P-please," he stuttered, "He only p-payed me to do this." He held out a handful of shillings that were shaking in his hand.

"You don't know him."

"n-no...," the kid sputtered out.

"Not even what he looks like?"

The kid slowly looked toward the floor and shook his head.

How didn't know anything. How disappointing.

I gave a nod and I gave the kid a reassuring shake on the shoulder. It was the most I could do for scaring him. "It would probably be best to not associate with him anymore."

The boy, on verge of tears from the stress, nodded and then took off.

I should have known better.

But adrenaline got the better of me.

I slowly turned back.

But my thoughts were only on Black Rose and the challenge he offered.

The challenge to find him.

The cat after the mouse.

So hands in pockets and pipe in mouth and headed back toward 221b only putting off the thought for only a moment to think of the problem ahead.

Watson.

* * *

**A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long. I promise the next chapter shall be up quicker. **

**Ugh. I see why Doyle wrote the Sherlock Holmes stories in Watson's perspective. Holmes just thinks too much!!! **

**If anyone has any tips please tell me.**

**Oh and there is one more thing.**

**THANKS TO ALL MY WATCHERS!!! Oh my gosh. If you like it right now, your going to love the upcoming chapters. I have never gotten this much feedback on one story. Please give me just as much reviews on this chapter! **


	3. 3 Thorn

**Roses Have Thorns- Chapter 2- Just For You**

"I'm going to have to replace this whole outfit."

I was laying back in a chair, feet up on the counter. My rare experience with Sherlock Holmes had really set me off.

"These are my favorite shoes too," I said while admiring them.

The shop keeper was sitting behind the glass counter that held jewelry and antiques.

Most of them were...donated by me.

He had been shining some silver spoons but looked up when I spoke.

"Can you spare me a few pounds?"

"Sure. For whatcha've done for me." Reaching in his left pocket he brought out a velvet bag.

I could tell by the chingle of the coins that it held approximately twelve pounds.

He slided 2 pounds across the counter then put the sac away.

The shop owner, Mr. Petr Sholt, had bright red hair that was in such a discord it might bother someone who was not used to it. Most of the time he wore a dark blue vest with a blue jacket on top. He was a very kind man. A bit selfish at times but overall my type of man. That is probably the reason why I have been able to put up with him all these years.

But it really wouldn't matter even if I strongly disliked the person cause I wasn't here very often.

I went traveling throughout Europe when I wasn't around. That or I lurking around the London streets earning money. He was always so enthusiastic to see my findings when I got back.

"You should do something to get revenge," Sholt said, breaking me from my original thoughts.

A smirk grew on my face. "That would be," I paused searching for the right word, "interesting."

My friend smiled and then went in the back room.

_I have the perfect idea just for you Mister Sherlock Holmes._

It was mid afternoon now.

I had already bought some different clothes. Which worked out for me. I found a flexible black suit, a collared white shirt to go underneath, and then a scarf that I could tuck into the p-coat black suit. I also managed to find a pair of nice, cheap, white gloves. I had been looking for accurately priced ones for ages and now I found a pair.

They fit amazingly.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I did keep my shoes. No detective is going to make me get rid of them.

After that shopping spree I dumped my all of my old clothes except for the coat.

I then took a quick look around the slums.

I was able to settle on a kid who had the same features and hair but was a couple inches off with the height. It was the best I was going to be able to find.

Finding Baker Street was a cinch. I proceeded to position the kid a few blocks down the street. I took his coat then then went directly across from 221b.

I saw his companion through the window leaning and looking out. He left the window and Sherlock came to the window, spotting me.

I left my head down and moved my hand against the rim of the hat.

_This'll teach him to mess with me._

As graceful as possible, I moved it back to the front and tipped the hat.

I took off. Walking, but doing it fast. I knew he would attempt to follow so I quickly gave the coat back to the boy and shoved a couple shillings in his hand.

I then went down another alley and watched it all unfold from behind a crate.

I couldn't help but to devilishly smile.

_You don't mess with the Black Rose._

Now he would have to chase me. Find me. I knew it would bother him that I got away. He will stop at nothing now to trace me down.

And so a challenge was executed.

"You did it didn't you?"

Of course I had told Mr. Sholt my plan. It always made his day when I risked my life.

"Do you even have to ask?" I questioned back.

He gave a chuckle, "I guess not. Well what are you going to do now?"

"I'm not done with him."

He looked at me with surprise. "Really?" I could hear him say "the poor man" under his breath.

"I have one more thing in mind."

I couldn't resist the urge to keep testing him

"I still think your crazy."

"You always thought I was bonkers."  
"Well mocking a man is different from sneaking into his home and stealing his things."

We stood on a street parallel to Baker Street. Holmes' door could still be seen through a hallway window.

"How ya gonna know he's not gonna be home?"

I smiled remembering what happened earlier.

_2 hours earlier._

_I stood inside the 221b Baker Street complex waiting for the housekeeper to arrive. _

_She was an older woman who looked like she had been through quite a lot. Her eyelids drooped from sleep exhaustion and there was a little burn on her hand from cooking oil._

_Swiftly, she walked to me from the other side of the hallway. _

"_Hello. What is it that you need?" She said a bit out of breath._

"_I was curious if a Mr. Sherlock Holmes was going to be here tonight. I was planning on interviewing him for the London Times." Quickly I brought out a pad of paper I had set in my pocket earlier. _

"_Oh my you caught him at a bad time. His friend is visiting him and has decided to take him out to dinner then a show. I'm very sorry. It seems he is always home but not tonight."_

"_Oh thats too bad. Perhaps another time then."_

"_Most defiantly. He is in need of some publicity to get a new case. I wouldn't be surprised if one day I find him rotting up there."_

"Smart."

"What did you expect?" I slyly answered back.

"So what are you planing on taking?"

"I'm not going to steal his things. Just move things around, shake him up a bit," I lied.

I decided earlier that I wouldn't tell Sholt the complete truth. He would want them for his pawn store and I really didn't want to lose my would-be prizes snatched from this particular house.

He narrowed his green eyes. "Course," He paused while I continued to look toward Holmes' door, "So what am I doing here?"

"I need you to help me get onto that drainage pipe on the right side of the building." I pointed towards it and although it didn't look vary stable I was quite sure that it would hold up under my weight.

"Sure thing.-"

I cut him off when I saw a figure come to Sherlock's door. "Here's his puppet friend."

The figure knocked then went on inside without consent from the owner.

We sat there for around 10 minutes.

Eventually I leaned up against a the brick wall.

Finally the man who had come in earlier exited and a rather dejected Holmes followed him.

I nodded to Sholt and we both moved toward the drain pipe. There was a jutting brick that I could use as a foot hold but it was just too high.

I gave a motion toward Sholt and he interlocked his fingers. I stepped on there and he easily lifted me up to the hold.

Silently I waved goodbye to him and started to climb the pipe. Unfortunately my arms weren't very strong at all so I had to put most of the stress on my legs.

After some time I reached the roof and wrapped my arms around it. My breath was heavy so I stayed there for a while to acquire more air. It was a crisp and cold night and the wind pelted against my face.

My forearms were on top of the roof so I could only rely on them to pull me up.

The roof was a bit slick so I stabled myself by going to the top of the roof on all fours.

I got to the top and I hadn't realized before, but the stars were beautiful tonight. A crack in the clouds showed their beauty.

Images of my mother and I watching the stars flashed in my memory. I gently smiled.

It seemed that in admiring their brilliance I forgot about where my feet had been placed and slipped feet first down the vertical slant. My mind began to panic as I started to fall down. My hands and feet both searched for a hold but everything was so slippery.

I could feel my gloves slowly thinning out and then scratching the skin beneath. This had only happened once before and there was only one hope if I couldn't stop immediately.

I took a look down to see the end rapidly reaching me.

My teacher had taught me what to do in this situation. I had to cling onto the brain pipe and hope that the acceleration wouldn't throw me off. For now I slowed as much as I could.

My feet passed over the edge.

My chest.

My hands quickly found the pipe and latched on.

My arms straightened out as my body swung back and forth. Each time my grip loosen a bit.

I clenched my teeth in frustration once I stopped swinging. The pain in my hands and arm was excruciating.

_Where's that damn window? _I thought while looking to the right and left.

_Oh. There it is._

I guess you could blame it on the lucky stars but the window was directly below me.

All I had to do was let go. Which is what I did and landed directly on top of the window sill.

Reaching in my jacket I pulled out a pocket knife and pushed it underneath the window. A satisfying click unlocked it.

The window hadn't been used in ages. It opened, but very unwillingly.

The room was a complete mess. Papers, books, and odd and ends were littered everywhere.

As I stepped into the room, trying to comprehend the sure randomness of it, I noticed a newspaper beneath my feet. I bent over and picked it up revealing that the date was around a year ago.

_I hope I've got the right room._

I noticed another thing on the paper. A small red dot underneath my fingers.

_Blood?_

It was mine. The roof fiasco had torn my gloves leaving my hands badly scratched. I winced at the renewed pain.

Before I moved around the room I took off my shoes and set them to the side. If I had worn them I would have tracked mud all around the place.

I didn't know where to start.

Everything was tossed around so that it seemed impossible to pick up anything that had any value to Holmes.

I tipped toed around, attempting not to step on anything to show no signs of me being here, and over to the next room. It was in the same manner maybe worse.

Something woke my senses.

It was a small noise but a noise nevertheless of someone unlocking the door.

Quickly, I dove into a hiding place as the door opened and the hallway light flooded in.

**Dun DUn DUUUUNNN!!!!**

**I think I just threw consistency right out the window. Sorry if you didn't like the length of this chapter.**

**I have a question for you guys. Well actually a couple of questions...**

**Um. k. First. **

**Does Holmes live in a apartment in a complex or does he basically own the whole house...thing? I'm slightly confused cause I was under the impression that he only owned one apartment in a complex. **

**Other question.**

**I think I need a beta reader. It would be excellent to get one. Grammar and such isn't that bad but I really need help with description and how to put down the feelings and all that jazz. So if you know any beta reader that would be helpful or if you could offer any advice just drop me a line.**

**I think I had one more question.... **

**Holmes- Your such a scatterbrain. -_-**

**Kim- Fuck off.**

**Oh yeah! I know that this is the late 1800s and such but would it bother anyone if I put in cuss words? I kinda see them as showing a character more. But seeing that I haven't seen them swear in the movie or book I was just curious if it would be out of context if I put in cuss words. **

**Kthxbai! X] See ju next chapta!**


	4. 4 Holmes

**Roses Have Thorns- Chapter 4- How the Cat Caught the Mouse**

It had been a long, dreary, violin-induced day when an obnoxious knock sounded on the door.

Watson.

The name had now become dreaded. Especially when I didn't have a case.

The knock sounded again before the door opened.

"Holmes?"

I stayed silent. It was highly improbable that he would leave, but I could at least give it a chance.

He started to roam around the apartment and then entered the room I was in.

"Holmes, being silent doesn't mean your invisible," he plainly said.

"I wasn't thinking that. We're you? Cause if you were I think you need to take a visit to the doctor."

Watson sighed and sat down in a chair while I laid the violin underneath my chin and began to pluck a few notes at a time.

"I've arranged for a nice dinner with Mary," he paused, "and I'm inviting you to join us." Of course this sentence wasn't said with the normal tone that a friend would say to another friend. It was said with regret and remorse in each word and syllable.

I immediately struck a sower note as soon as he finished and removed the violin from underneath my chin.

"You. _Watson_. Are inviting me. _Holmes_. To dinner with your girlfriend, who absolutely despises me?"

"Well you are going to be my best man and I thought it would be best to get you both on speaking terms again."

"Your best man. I don't recall ever agreeing to those terms."

"You did say it when you were drunk at the Mason that one time."

"..."

_2 months ago..._

_I had no clue had I came to this state but I was stone drunk. It was one of the moments in a man's life where you just couldn't make out anything that happened. _

"_Holmes." The voice seemed to appear out of nowhere. _

_I turned from the bar behind me and leaned back to see Watson. _

"_My ol' fr'end!"_

"_Holmes. Why am I not suuurprized?" A certain expression passed his face at that moment but I was too preoccupied with the beautiful ceiling that I didn't notice._

"_Why Holmes! Have you... have you ever been a best man?"_

"_Whut?" I questioned back._

"_A best man. Why it's the best thing ever!"_

"_-r'lly?"_

"_Yes. Oh my. Well. Would you-like to be **my **best man?"  
"I would be 'onor'd-" and with that I passed out._

"Taking advantage of your own friend. How do you sleep at night?"

"Somehow I manage. Well are you up to dinner then?"

"Sure. When is it?"

"Tonight. Get yourself looking presentable." With that he got up and went into the other room to begin shuffling through my things.

I groaned at the thought of all the people.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

After around 10 minutes had passed I looks somewhat decent. I pulled the collar a bit to loosen it up and then took a glance in the mirror before going into the sitting room where Watson was impatiently waiting. He studied my outfit and sighed. "Lets go."

I grimaced at the thought of dinner with his unfit wife. Watson got up from his chair. His gloves were still set upon the table next to him but I didn't bother to say anything. He could have cold hands for all I cared.

We left without a word being uttered. Across the hall I thought I spotted someone in the alleyway but when I took a double take they were gone. I left it in the back of my mind for later. For right now I had to concentrate on the things that were coming.

Few people walked on the streets. There was one however. The man from the pawn shop. Immediately my mind began coming up with all the reasons that he could be there but Watson interrupted my thoughts.

"Were going to the Mason. It's a wonderful restaurant. The foods excellent."

An awkward silence lingered for a moment as they walked to a more populated part of town to pick up a cab. Seeing one, I waved for it. Watson began to shuffle in his pockets.

"Holmes you aren't wearing my gloves are you?" He questioned while the cab pulled up.

"No. You left them at Baker Street."

He gave an exasperated sigh, "Why did you not tell me that earlier Holmes?"

"I forgot."

He rubbed his hand on his face. "Alright we'll swing by there and pick them up." I smiled and opened the door for him.

And so we rode back toward Baker Street. I barely held in a chuckle when I looked over to find that Watson had been pouting like a 10 year old child.

We arrived and I told the cab driver to wait for a bit while we headed up to get the gloves.

Watson practically stomped up the stairs.

Once we opened the door I could already tell that something wasn't right.

"Watson," I breathed.

"Oh, what is it now?"

"Someone was here. The window was jimmied and left open." I looked toward the floor first. Nothing was misplaced except a newspaper that had been laying on the floor but was now on the desk. On the very corner of it was some blood from the thief's finger. It was still wet...

Something to the left caught my eye. His shoes. The same black shoes made from high class leather with a scratch on the front of the right shoe. Turning it over I examined the dirt on the bottom. Most of it was from the shadier region of London. Expected of the Black Rose.

"He's still here."

Watson came up beside me. "What makes you think that?"

"These shoes are important to him. I doubt he would leave them."

Watson reached in a drawer and pulled out his revolver out.

Quietly I pulled mine from my coat and we started looking around the room for more oddities. Only a few papers had been moved the were on the floor.

They were moved to the side as if he had tripped on them while running. They led to a closet in my bedroom.

I motioned for Watson and together we stood outside of the door with our guns loaded.

The tension grew as I stared at the door knob. Carefully, I grabbed it and threw the door wide open. A shaded figure stood in there and immediately lunged at me while flinging coats that had been on his arms all over the place. It impaired my vision only for a moment while the man tackled me to the floor, knocking my gun far out of reach.

While attempting to pin me down he reached for a gun he had in his pocket.  
Watson was standing by looking for a clear shot.

I struggled against Black Rose, but I was able to over power him and flipped him over so I was on top.

Then I saw his face. Young, pale, almost gauntly. His eyes and messy yet sophisticated hair were pure black.

I lunged my fist towards his face and hit him square in the face.

He was knocked out instantly.

I got off of him and took a step back.

"He put up quite a fight," I chuckled.

**A/N **

**Oh my god I finally finished this chapter. Ughhhhhh. I really didn't want to do this chapter for some reason.**

**Yay procrastination. **

**Trust me its going to be more funnier and interesting once this gets rolling. :D It's going to be so much fun to write. **

**Soon I might post up a picture of my character. I'll be sure to notify you guys via author note and the link will probably be on my profile.**

**Oh and I wanted to ask... Does anyone find author notes annoying? Cause I can stop it if you want.**

**Kthanxbai! **


	5. 5 Thorn

**Roses Have Thorns- Chapter 5- Clearly, I Have No Choice In The Matter.**

It must have been morning when I woke. A soft light came from a window, allowing me to see dust that lingered in the air.

My head was pounding like a drum. The room surrounding me was not familiar in any way. Panicking, I attempted to move my body but it was firmly tied to a chair.

"I see your up." the low voice came from the corner of the room.

_Thats right. _Memories flashed by that reminded me of the prior night and how I was caught simply because of bad timing.

"You've been out for quite awhile." The figure came out of the shadows to reveal Sherlock Holmes.

I couldn't help but to bare my teeth at him. Capturing me so easily. It was such a disgrace.

He leisurely pulled up a chair next to me and began to get his pipe ready.

"You want one?" He asked politely.

I spat on the ground in response. "Your tobacco is no better than dirt."

How could he be so relaxed with Black Rose under his household.

"Friendly," he mumbled while lighting the pipe.

He blew the smoke into a ring and rested back in the chair.

Taking his moment of relaxation, I looked around the room. There used to be another man with him. He had a firm manner about him that looked very respectable.

"Where's your pet," I asked.

"Watson? Ah. He had to talk to his girlfriend about last night but he'll be back shortly and we'll start this."

I sat back and stared at the smoke stricken ceiling. A few moments later I heard the door softly click open and a man with a bushy mustache and a long cane. Judging by his appearance he must have been, or is, a doctor.

"How hard did you hit him? He's been out all night."

"Not that hard. I thought I went a bit easy on him," He snickered.

He was messing with my emotions, trying to tell how far he could push me. I diverted my attention to a small photograph of beautiful woman. Unlike everything else in the room, it wasn't covered in dust.

"Your the Black Rose right?"

I knew he was going to ask this question eventually but I was slightly taken back when it was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

"Yes." There was no use in lying.

"Who?"

I spun my head round at this question. His friend had asked the question. _How dare he not know me? _Holmes seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Black Rose. Famous con, thief, and overall escape artist.... You haven't hear of it have you?"

"Maybe a bit on the streets but no, never."

I gave a sigh. How disappointing. How many years had I been at it? Like 12? And yet here was a man of London who did not know of me.

I could feel the anger fill me. Reaching in the very seam of my jacket, I pulled out one of the thinest spikes I had and flicked it at Watson.

There was a tremendous crash as Holmes took a silver tray that held tea and quickly put it between Watson and the needle.

Holmes had gotten up and began to tie my hands back to the chair. Watson hadn't a clue what had happened until his eyes spotted the silver sliver on the floor. He bent over and picked it up then examined it and handed it over to Holmes who looked it over more throughly.

I could tell the wheels in his head were already spinning.

He clasped his hands together and put his elbows on his knees.

"As you know you are pretty high on the wanted list."

I stayed silent.  
"I could easily hand you over to them." My mind was already aware of this but since he hadn't given me up yet then we probably wasn't in the future. Some other plan then...

"I just want to ask you a few question before Lestrade and his men get you," he paused almost contemplating what to say, "How did you get to the window?"

I thought he would ask a better question then that. "Roof."

He thought a bit more. "Are you with that pawn shop owner?"

"Friends with benefits."

"Ah. I thought that was it... Now... Were did you get this," he held up the needle in front of me, "and where did you get the poison on it?"

"I sculpted them for a certain size. The poison... from a friend," I lied. Well it wasn't necessarily a lie. He wasn't a friend.

Confusion passed against his face but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"What friend?"  
I kept my silence and looked straightforward allowing no expression or irregularities to show.

"Hm. Watson. Meet with me in my room." With that said he left toward his room. Watson, a bit more reluctant to go, sighed and followed him shutting the door behind him.

_I don't see the difference between him interrogating me and the police interrogating me. They both ask stupid questions. Maybe Holmes isn't what they all say he is..._

As I sat thinking of how dull the room was I heard a bit of intensive talking from the other room. It was too muffled to be able to tell what was happening but it soon died down.

Watson looked a bit huffed as they re entered.

"Despite arguments," Watson shot him a look, "we can come to a proposition. You can either weather it with Lestrade and is men."  
_Well thats not terribly bad. I probably die though, but thats what happens while you make a fool of the law. _

"Or. You become indebted to me."

That wasn't expected. "Whats entitled with that?"

"Help me on cases, do whatever I need you to do, I haven't decided quite yet on the details."

This was a perfect opportunity to avoid death. But yet, he had something up his sleeve. It had to benefit him somehow. I racked my brain for various things that he might do but couldn't decide on one. But putting that aside, his intellect would help me refine my own skills.

I sat for a moment letting all these thoughts soak in and swirl around.

"Your answer," Holmes firmly said.

I looked at his face, in his eyes. "Clearly, I have no choice in the matter. You've got a deal."

His eyes light up and smiled triumphantly while he got up from his chair. "Watson if you would." His friend narrowed his eyes but slowly crossed the room and began untying me.

"Of course I will have to ask you for all your weapons."

I groaned, this might take awhile.

Around 10 minutes later I had laid all the things that I had in position on the table. Surprising, it took up almost the whole table. They were evenly spaced out on the table. A growing silence began as Watson, Holmes, and I stared at the sure mass of the weaponry. 5 knifes, 20 needles, 1 revolver, 2 cannisters filled different poisons, and a wallet only holding a bit of money.

Maybe this was a bit too far, but it was what I carried around most of the time. Since all the weight was gone I felt a bit fore relaxed. It had been a long time since I had been relieved of those things.

I slumped down on the Davon port. (1)

"Quite a variety you had on you."  
"I tend to carry what is needed. And you never know what you need."

"True."

An awkward silence still hung, along with the smoke and dust.

Holmes looked toward Watson. "Is your wife expecting you back?"

"Ah yes, Than you for reminding me. I shall be off then." He grabbed a blue coat and his cane which had been leading against a wall near the door. He seemed very hesitant about leaving his friend with a thief. Who wouldn't be?

"You sure you'll be fine?"

"Yes of course," He fiddled with a bow almost like he was waiting for him to leave.

"Alright. Send a message if you need anything."

Slowly he closed the door.

We waiting a bit and Holmes moved towards the window facing the street, watching as he left.

He clasped his hands together. "Lets get started."

I had the feeling that I was in for a hell of a day.

**A/N **

**I have fun writing this. Next chapter will probably be up in a giffy so get yourself ready. What is Holmes gonna make him do!!?!?!**

**Oh so the magically translation fairy will be helping you guys along with terms that are strange.**

**So. **

**Davon Port- British slang for the couch or sofa. (my grandparents used to say it.)**

**Please review!! Your reviews are like my nicotine!**


	6. 6 Watson

**Roses Have Thorns- Chapter 6- An Unsettling Discovery  
**** ATTENTION ****  
THIS IS IMPORTANT!  
This whole chapter is in WATSON's point of view. I couldn't seem to write it any other way. Next chapter shall be in Thorn's point of view.  
Kay. Story continue.**

It had been three days since Holmes' "visitor" had decided to stay with him. On normal circumstances I would have gone to visit him after the first day, but seeing that Mary and I were in planning for our wedding, I hardly had the time.  
My conscience continually pestered me about it to the point where I would stay longer at my patient's house, just so I had other things to think about. But I have no idea why I stressed about it. Surely, he would be just fine. He always did such rash things.  
But still. Being his friend I couldn't help but to look after him.  
Mary had noticed my unusual behavior immediately and questioned me about it.  
"Why are you acting so strange lately?" She asked.  
I hesitated, unsure how to word it, "Holmes has had... a rather troublesome visitor staying with him." I knew that if I told her it was a thief was staying with him she would be worried.  
She gently smiled, "I'm sure he'll be just fine. He's a strong man. Physically and mentally."  
"That is true. I would still like to visit him today. Do you think I can miss our arrangement with the florist?"  
"I suppose so. If it'll get you out of this behavior," She laughed.  
I grabbed my coat and cane, eager to see what awaited me. I pecked Mary's forehead before leaving.  
"Oh darling!"  
"Yes?" I answered while slowly opening the door.  
"Should we have roses or violets?"  
I chuckled. "Your choice. I'll see you in a little while. Goodbye." And with that, I left.  
After a short walk, I arrived at 221b Baker Street.  
I craned my neck upward to see that Holmes' blinds had been shut tight. He was probably just sleeping and I had worried about nothing.  
I chuckled to myself as I rang the bell.  
Mrs. Hudson quickly opened the door. "Oh Mr. Watson! How good to see you! Please come in!"  
She ushered me into the hallway and shut the door.  
"I have been a bit worried about Mr. Holmes. I haven't heard a peep out of him for days!"  
"Days?" I replied, confused.  
"Yes, after you left I heard a few bangs and such but then there was just silence. I did hear a bit of...talking, I think... is there someone who took your room?"  
I was unsure of whether to tell her the truth or keep her innocently naive.  
"I have no idea," I lied.  
She smiled. "Well then. I guess you better get to seeing him and I better get back to cooking. Oh. Before you go Mr. Holmes has a visitor who is coming. Can you tell him that for me?"  
"Sure," I replied.  
"Thank you John." She left toward the kitchen and disappeared from sight.  
This place felt so much like home to me. The patterned carpet led me to the stairs. Slowly, I climbed then toward Holmes' room. I remembered the familiar creaking of the stairs and looked at the paintings that were hanging on the wall to my left. Most of them were just of scenery.  
I reached the end of the stairs and turned to the left door.  
I contemplated knocking but decided that it would probably be best to just walk in. He wouldn't answer the door if I knocked anyways.  
Gripping the brass door knob, I slowly opened the door...

It was silent inside except for a deep murmuring.  
"Holmes...?" There was a groan from the sitting room. I swiftly entered the room to find a rather disgruntled Holmes sprawled out on the carpet.  
The weapons that were sitting on a table in the corner had been removed, leaving a bare spot.  
I rushed to my companions side.  
"Holmes," I said shaking him.  
He groaned again and opened his eyes. "Watson. Nice to see you."  
"What happened?" My memory flashed to his visitor's face. "Where's that man?!"  
He sat up but still seemed a bit out of it. He pointed toward his bedroom.  
I ran into the other room and scanned it for the man. "Rose?" Was that the man's name? I couldn't remember what his exact alias was.  
In the corner of the room I saw a figure that could be a man.  
"Rose?" I called out again, moving toward the figure.  
"'t's Deav'n!" The slurred voice responded.  
In better light I could tell that this man looked severely disorientated. His hair was in every which way, quite different from its sophisticated manner when I first encountered him. His coat had been removed and his sleeves had been pushed up to his shoulders. He slumped in the corner as if he couldn't control his limps.  
"W'y're you on te ceilin'?"  
That had taken me back, "What?"  
"'Ur on t'e celin'!"  
Holmes voice echoed behind me, "You took Gladstone."

Realization hit me and I spun around. "You drugged him?!"  
Holmes was leaning up against the doorway. "I needed someone to test." He seemed to be getting out of his state just fine. Different could be said for his visitor for he continued to say things that didn't make sense from the corner.  
"You'll fall frum ther'! Get d'wn!" He tugged on the hems of my pants. I pulled my leg away although he continued to reach for it.  
"He's a human being! You can't just blackmail someone to drug them!"  
"Talk in a lower voice please," He quietly said.  
I put my palm to my face. "So what happened to you?"  
"Well... After I examined the drugs effect on him I needed to test something else. And it's never good to mix chemicals when you don't know the consequences."  
"So you did this to yourself," I plainly said.  
"Yes."  
I sighed. And took a look around the room. It was true. Test tubes and odd liquids were everywhere.  
"You've got a client coming soon."  
What was going on seemed to hit him. The room was a complete utter mess, he was drugged on who knows what, and another man who was a top notch criminal was also in his house yelling about something that had to do with the ceiling.  
I heard the doorbell downstairs and Mrs. Hudson high-pitched voice greeting the visitor.  
Sherlock hesitantly stepped forward. "Put him in the closet." He began frantically putting the vials of toxic liquid into drawers.  
"The closet?"  
"Yes. Hurry."  
Picking Rose off the ground I heaved him by the arms to a nearby closet. I continued to hear Holmes shuffling around in the background. Right as I shoved the man in the closet Sherlock came from behind me and quickly stuck a needle into Rose's arm. I spun around, "What happened to not mixing drugs?!?!"  
"We'll find out what happens," He paused as we watched Black Rose fall limp, "Lets go. We have a visitor to talk to."  
I sighed and shut the closet door.  
As if on cue a knock sounded on the door.  
"Shall we?" I asked gesturing my hand toward the sitting room.  
He smiled and attempted to walk in a straight line. I chuckled a bit the insanity of it all.

**A/N **

**It seems that no matter what I do I can't get a chapter out in less than a week. I'm such a lazy ass.**

**Tee-he. Holmes has fun with drugs. I loved writing this. I would like to thank DarkStarr for being my almighty BETA READER! I was so proud when I found that someone wanted to beta read for me. (epicly proud right now) I would also like to thank all my watchers!!! I'm almost to 50 reviews. (The most reviews I've ever gotten.) Oh gosh I'm so proud!!! I need to get a drawing of my character up. I'll start working on it. **

**PLEASE Read & Review**


	7. 7 Holmes

**Roses Have Thorns- Chapter 7- In Which Sherlock's Boredom Comes to an End**

There was another, quieter, knock on the door.  
"Come in!" I yelled while taking a seat next to the window. Watson also took the seat beside of me, leaving the love seat in front of us open to the visitor. The door hesitantly opened leaving a crack at first but then opening to reveal a woman of her mid 40s. She wore a plain black dress for mourning one's death, and her graying blond hair was pulled back into a messy bun with strands of curls falling here and there. No makeup had been applied to her face, leaving a tired, wrinkled look. Her eyes were a light blue but they were swollen and red from crying. My eyes shot down to her hands, where she was nervously playing with a diamond engagement ring on her hand.

Her husband had died.

"M-Mr. Holmes," she asked toward Watson.

I gently smiled and got up to shake her hand, "I am Sherlock Holmes."

She casted her eyes downward and extended a shaky hand, "I-I'm sorry. I'm Emma Clemmons."

I shook her extremely cold hand, then offered her a seat. She gratefully took it and politely sat down.

"I would be very thankful if you could take my case Mr. Holmes," she pleaded while still fiddled with the ring on her finger. She paused, unsure of what to say.

"Please feel free to present your case whenever you feel comfortable."

On the back of Ms. Clemmons' wrists were very light marks of where a typewriter had been pushed up against them. Even though she was dressed in modest black they had been bought in Burge's, a high class women's clothing store. Most government workers shopped there.

She shifted in the seat. "My husband was.." she closed her eyes and her lip quivered, "he was-" She choked on her words and dug her face into her hands. I felt only a tad bit of compassion for the Ms. Clemmons, but at this pace it would take forever  
"Murdered," I plainly said. She numbly nodded. "Ms. Clemmons. If you wish to continue this you must get a hold of yourself and your emotions or I can't help you." I lounged in the chair and waited for her to respond.

The chokes of crying slowly stopped and she lifted her sunken eyes. "I found him yesterday morning in h-his study. 'e was lying on his work desk and I thought he had fallen asleep so I put his coat around him...but.. I touched him," she sobbed again, "He was solid cold. I shook him and flipped him over and his eyes were wide like he had-"  
"saw something," Watson began. "Or someone," I added.

She nodded. "I immediately called the police and they sweeped the place but, nothing was found. Not even a single finger print."

"What was he like? A business man I presume?"

"Thats why I came to you. I can't see any reason why anyone would want to kill him." She casted her eyes downward, gently smiling, "He was kind to everyone, a gentle man... We weren't even rich."

"No workers who envied his happiness?"

She looked up, surprised. "Well. I never thought of that. He didn't really have any friends though. It was just me and him. Together in life." She began to break down again.

I leaned forward in contemplation, placing my elbows on my knees and placing my hands together. This was a simple case. But often the most elementary cases turn out to be much more. Possibilities clouded my mind. As my brain argued the all the choices until finally settling on one.

"When could you arrange a time for us to come have a look?"

Her sadness wavered as she smiled, happy that someone could finally help her. "Tomorrow at noon would be fine. Oh thank you Mister Holmes. You don't know how much this means to me."

I smirked. Although my emotions had been drowned out I still felt some type of good when I helped people like her. "We'll be there. Do you mind if I bring along my 2 partners?" Watson shot me a look.

"If it will help."

Watson had now put his hand to his face. "In some way or another," I said, smiling. She stood up, straightened her skirt, and headed for the door. "Thank you very much Mister Holmes." Tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks. Unable to make out anything other than choked noise, she just nodded and walked out, closing the door behind her.

I slouched in the chair, relaxing for a bit before grabbing my violin and plucking at a few strings. Watson's heavy gaze drifted across the room. "I don't understand a single thing you do anymore," he finally said, breaking the silence.

It quickly grew silent again except for the random notes coming from the old violin. I thought of the case and how to execute a proper investigation of the crime scene, but for some reason or another Black Rose and Watson kept squirming there way into my thoughts. Should I take them? I'm certain Watson will eventually agree if I ask him. But the Black Rose... What to do with him. Surely I could use him for much more than simple experiments.

While in this dilemma I failed to hear a knock on the door, so, as expected, Watson got up to open it. As he edged toward the door I realized something.

3 knocks?... oh no.  
He had reached the door by now and was midway in turning the knob. "Watson No!" It was too late the door had been opened and there entered Miss Wendy Wilson. The tall, skinny, girl with fair skin. Her curled hair put neatly in a bun with 2 perfect cork screw pieces falling in front of her heart shaped face. Dramatically, she strode into the room failing her arms everywhere and crying out, "Look how dirty it is in here! I'm gone for a week and just look what you've done with the place!"

I placed my hand on my forehead, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "I've only returned it to it's prior glory-"

"Glory?" She swiftly ran a finger along the mantel piece, "This place is filthy! I don't know how you bring clients in here! No wonder that lady left with tears in her eyes."  
She continued to ramble on while fetching her cleaning supplies. Watson, completely bewildered at this point, walked back over to me and whispered in my ear, "who is she?"

"She. Is Wendy Wilson. A maid whom is Mrs. Hudson's niece. When you left, Mrs. Hudson began a childish worriment of me and my... cleanliness. Her niece had been visiting and so Mrs. Hudson gave her the challenge of keeping my apartment decent."

Watson stifled a laugh.

"Well I guess I'll start with the bedroom. I just need a broom and then get started," her voice wandered into the other room.

"Can't you just- did she just go into the bedroom?" Watson asked. My eyes widened and we both sprinted into the bedroom. Wendy had began to open the closet, but turned when she saw us. The closet door was still cracked.

"What is it Mister Holmes?"

"It would be best for you to start in the living room. It's much dirtier than in there," I lied.

"Oh no. I think it would be best for me to start in the back and make my way out to the front." She eased the closet door open a tad more. Inside Rose's unconsciousness self could be seen leaning against the door.

"I really think you should start in the living room," Watson chimed in.

"Really boys, I think I know what I'm do-" She continued to open the door despite their objection.

And there fell the body. Right on her foot. It was all silent for a moment before put her hands up to her face and let out a terrifying scream that bounced off all the walls. Watson covered his ears and a crash could be heard from downstairs. I flinched at the ear shattering shriek and as she took a breath I walked over to her putting a hand up.

"You must understand-"  
"THERE'S A DEAD MAN IN YOUR CLOSET! HOW CAN I POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND!"

I cleared my throat, "He is not dead, merely knocked out." She shook the body off her foot and backed away a few steps. Her face was in pure confusion and misunderstanding, still trying to decide what was happening.

I made my move. "This is Mr. Thorn. He is one of my close friends who helps me out with cases," she looked toward him, "but unfortunately has a bad alcohol problem since his girlfriend died. Watson and I are both trying to help him but he doesn't seem to want any guidance at all. Every once in awhile though when he's stone drunk he'll come to us so that he doesn't get in trouble." She nodded, eyes becoming less frightful.

I bent down to pick up Rose off the floor and continued, "He came to us this morning, from drinking all night, and passed out on the carpet," I set him in the chair, "I couldn't leave him and I also had a client coming over when he decided to 'visit'. So naturally, I wanted to hide him so my client she would not be upset."

She pouted and looked toward the man. Worry in her eyes. "It is very simple. I mean, It wasn't like you were experimenting like a mad scientist or anything."

Watson sarcastically answered for me, "Of course no. He would never do **anything** like that."

_Mental note. Next time Watson decides to be sarcastic put drugs in his tea._

We all stared at Rose for a minute before tears welled in Wendy's eyes and she rushed right over, giving Rose's body a hug. His face in her breasts she swung him back and forth.

"Oh you poor man! Lover gone and no one to share your sorrow and passion with! Oh, how your agony reaches to me!" She tightly embraced him.

Watson put his hand to his face and I chuckled at the sight. Wendy, from experience, had taking a liking in me quite recently when she was hired. She was over emotional, with strange fetishes in men, and exasperated all of her movements.

While Wendy intensely hugged Rose the motion must have woken him from the drug.

_Mental Note. Concoction only lasts 20 minutes. _

**A/N I'm so sorry! This took sooo longgg. Procrastination got the better of me I guess. I really shouldn't make any excuses. I just send my sincerest apologies to everyone. I wish I could hug all of you like Mary! XD Mary is a character that I had a lot of fun creating. Tee-he. But anywho.**

**I'm really disappointed in my work. I went back and looked at it and it's written terribly. So short with no feeling. I'm really trying harder but if you guys want to give some pointers feel free to send me a message or put in a review. Your reviews are awesome. They really help me out when encouraging me to start writing and everything. Thank you so much if your still following! Peace out! **

**Another A/N**

**I fixed the Wendy Mary thing. Sorry for the confusion.**


	8. 8 Thorn

**Roses Have Thorns- Chapter 8- Macaroons Aren't the Only Thing I Crave**

_All I could hear was my shallow breathing in the darkness. _

_My skin barely gave off a faint glow as I waded in, what seemed, to be an everlasting shade. The eerie sensation made be question even my own eyes and what they were seeing._

_Figures surrounded me, moving and blending. I couldn't pinpoint of them as I turned around attempting to decipher even one of them. My mind raced and panicked, unable to stay calm for one moment. The darkness grew closer and closer folding around me. I shook and grabbed my head as tears of horror rolled down my cheeks. _

_Then a single voice rang out._

"_I'll find you."_

"_I'll kill you."_

_My eyes grew wide as more tears rolled down my cheeks. No please. No I haven't done anything. I did like you said! The voice continued to whisper and yell at the same time. It only said the same things._

"_I'll find you wherever you are…"_

"…_and I will kill you"I sank to the floor and covered my ears, shivering in pure horror. "kill you."_

"_I will rip you apart" It echoed all around "apart."_

_The voice cut through like nails on a chalkboard or someone angrily sliding there bow on a violin and no matter how hard I crushed my hands against my ears the voice still rang in my head. _

"…_crush your bones and eat your flesh. Drink your blood."_

"_I will…."_

…

_A silence crept in leaving a long open void of nothing. And then he said it. One of the things I hated the most._

"… _devour you."_

I knew I was out of the dream as soon as the voices stopped. But why I was shaking back and forth on a pillow eluded me. My eyes felt crusted shut and my mind was fuzzy from the earlier drugs, but I pried them open to find white and black.

My mind screamed for me to move but my body refused to answer the calls. Voices in the background were muffled and lowered. I looked up to find a fair skinned face of a 18 year old girl. She had her eyes closed and was saying something, but I couldn't make it out.

And then… it seemed to don of me what have happening. I wasn't lying on a pillow. No. Far from it.

Seeing that I am a girl, and not a man, I am still straight. So when a girl finds her face smothered in another girl's breasts it isn't a very pleasant experience. I pushed away as hard as I could, when I realized this, and stumbled backwards away from the girl. The patterned room still felt much disoriented as things moved and shifted. I was unable to keep my balance and fell backward. A pair of arms sled under my own arms and caught me before I hit the floor.

"Oh my Sir! Are you alright!?" The maid rushed forward.

I tried to steady myself with the help of Holmes lifting me. It didn't help because I was soon tackled by the maid who had asked my health earlier. Luckily Holmes still was holding me up so I didn't fall over, but her force was still very annoying. "Oh sir how I feel for you!" She wrapped her arms around my neck in an attempt to comfort, but it came more as suffocation.  
Watson, seeing my difficulty, pulled her off of me while I began to steady myself once again

"What is going on… ?" I managed to ask.

"You were highly intoxicated again," Holmes stated while giving me a just-go-with-it look.

"Ah…yes," I replied cautiously, "Who are you?" I pointed toward the maid.

Holmes chuckled, "this is Wendy Wilson. She was a tad worried about your condition. Please excuse her. If you will leave Miss. Wilson, I have things to discuss with my colleague."

Her smile fell. "Can I at least know your name before I leave?"

I gulped, "Devon Thorn." Her eyes lite up and she gave a wide grin. Probably shouldn't have done that.

"Well thank you...Devon," She said adding a light sexual tone that made a shiver creep up my spine. I merely nodded as she winked and left the room.

XxXxXx

I coughed a bit and itched my throat. It was as dry as the desert itself.

"Tea?" Holmes asked.

"Please." The light that was filtering through the room showed how much dust how accumulated recently. I rubbed my aching forehead while Holmes went to get some water. My head was pounding ever since I woke up and that girl's obnoxious voice entered my head.

"So Devon," Watson hesitantly said, "Why are you doing this?" He kept his voice hushed so Holmes could not hear.

It was actually very simple. "It is...educational in a way," I said, searching for the correct words to use, "I learn new techniques and get a chance to sharpen my skills with the best."

Watson fingered a bottle that had been sitting on the mantle piece above the old, smoked fireplace. "So you just want to do this to become better at being a murderer and theft? Kill more people and ruin more lives," he paused, "I've done my research on you and your ways."

My hands shook as he said this. I kept my facial composer, but inside I felt my street instincts crawling restlessly inside of me. In one motion I picked up a used knife that had been sitting on a side table and with 2 swift steps it was up against his throat.

I was still a slave to my emotions. As much as I had tried to lock them away they still seeped out of the small cracks that were left exposed. It felt...weakening that they could take a hold of me so easily. I breathed heavily, venting out the anger inside me, telling me to kill him. A metal sword slid across my side. He was equally as fast.  
While I had picked up the knife he had gotten his cane's blade out and put it to the side of my torso.

"You haven't seemed to do your **research** the right way. Where I come from anyone who goes against me found themselves **dead** the next morning," I said directly into his ear. The blade pressed harder against my side. I licked my lips and smiled. Blood was oh so amazing. The red had stained my brain, earning for any source of it to rid my aches and pains. Mentally and physically.

"If you don't mind. I would be very grateful if you took that away from my friend's neck." Holmes was standing in the doorway with tea in hand. His expression wasn't concerned, only tense.

We stood all silent for a moment until I dropped to knife onto the floor and Watson took his blade, sliding it back into the cane. Sherlock had taught him well.

Holmes smiled at me like nothing had happened, "Your tea."

I nodded and returned a smirk. Although his expressionism was completely different than an average beings, and it urked me so, it also intrigued me to find out more of what goes on in his head. Crossing the room I grabbed the tea out of sherlock's hand and took a seat on a old rickety chair right by the door. The shadows covering my face.

"A new case has presented itself," he stated, walking across the room and sitting leisurely in a seat next to the decaying fireplace. Watson glared icily at me and pursed his lips because Holmes was sharing valuable information with me, a criminal. That or it was jealousy. They were fond friends after all, it's only natural for a friend to be jealous of a newer "friend." Not that I would call myself Holmes "friend," but that was what was being given off from his physical appearance.

Holmes explained the situation to me, not looking at me just saying what had happened and painting the picture of what he had observed with his words. They were very descriptive, how the woman had looked and acted, taking into accord every single thing she did.

The case itself wasn't too interesting. From the other things I had read in the paper it was just like any other murder. I sighed, "how boring. I'd rather go about testing drugs than have to be around a somber, whimpering woman."

"We have a deal if you remember right," Holmes replied.

I silently bared my teeth underneath the shadows. "Course. Tomorrow was it?"

"Yes. You can borrow some of my clothes," Holmes said from his seat.

"You mean **my **clothes," Watson grumbled underneath his breath.

I smirked, making these two feel uncomfortable just felt so... pleasurable. I also have to admit that hanging in the shadows of the dim light room made me more... at ease in a way. It was probably because that is where I would lurk around in my normal life.

Holmes had gotten out of his chair and was talking to Watson in the sitting room while I sat in the darkness. I closed my eyes and brought myself to the past. When my parents smiled down on me, and when I ran through the fields laughing with my mother. When we picked flowers and put them in my hair, calling me a nymph. A part tugged at me. Telling me to go back. To run again, but not to run away, to run with the wind and peace. I craved it so much.

"Macaroon?"

I tore myself from he dream and opened my eyes looking up at Holmes who held the tray next to me. A smile beaming down.

I grabbed 2 and twisted my lip into a grin. They were probably filled with some type of drug and thats all I wanted right now. I wanted my head to become dumb and dull... like everyone else.

**A/N This chapter is dedicated to my friend, Ruan and our crazy conversation on macaroon fetishes. ;) hope you like it.  
So here is chapter 8. Happy end of spring break... although its not very happy is it?**


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